


Spies in Spandex

by HawkeyeRules



Series: Spies AU [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Assassination Attempt(s), Canon Jewish Character, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik has Issues, F/M, Gen, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Kidnapping, Mentions of the KKK and Nazis, One-sided pining, Past Relationship(s), Some politics, Sort Of, Threats of Violence, but only in the first chapter, some of which involve Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 6,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24537745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkeyeRules/pseuds/HawkeyeRules
Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is hired to kill the President of the United States. Charles Xavier is sent to stop him. But will old wounds compromise both of them? Or will they be able to move past their pain?
Relationships: Azazel/Raven | Mystique (X-Men), Erik Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy/Raven | Mystique
Series: Spies AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773403
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So . . . for the first chapter, there is some references to some groups that hate and try to kill minorities and those who are different from them (hopefully i'm not being to vague), but its only in the first chapter. If you want to skip, you won't miss much.

Erik had his contract. It was a different kind than the ones he normally took, but it would suffice. 

His new target was in one of the wealthiest countries in the world, surrounded by armed guards and around-the-clock security. Assassinating the President of the United States was going to be hard, but he relished the challenge.

He packed his sniper rifle in his cushioned case, along with extra ammunition, then picked up a small bag with several changes of clothes. He was always ready to leave, no matter the time of day. Several banks accounts across the world were owned by him, each connected to an alias in the country. 

He boarded a flight leaving Poland for the United States, using his American alias. It had cost him several thousand dollars, but he acquired the service of one of the most skilled forgers in the world. The man had met Erik in a run-down trailer behind a Taco Bell. He had been wearing a grungy t-shirt that might’ve been white at one point, but was now a shade of grey, and a baseball cap covering greasy hair.

He had called himself Toad and Erik dislike him instantly. But he could do what Erik wanted him to, so he tolerated his presence. Now it had paid off. Erik had an established identity in the States, including a job, multiple resumés, a house, and a car. 

Erik never tied himself down to one identity. He slipped from one to another with hardly any thought or effort. He kept nothing that was single him out and refused to make habits. However, there was one thing he could never bring himself to get rid of.

He twisted it in his fingers as he boarded the plane—always economy, never the same airport or air service. A gold Star of David, tarnished after years of handling. It had been Erik’s mother’s and it was the only remnant of his dead religion he had. 

Once on the plane, he leaned back and closed his eyes, reviewing all he knew about his target. President Kelly was well-liked, had won the election by a landslide, and was rumored to be involved with the KKK and a new Nazi terrorist group. Due to a leaked blurry photo in which there was a man who may or may not have been Kelly at a KKK rally, the election was going to be an interesting one.

Erik didn’t care. All he cared about was the chance to test his skills and take down a blight on society. He didn’t enjoy killing, but when it was people like Kelly, who hurt and abused other just because they were different, well, who wouldn’t feel a little satisfied?

He allowed himself to drift into sleep as the plane took off. It was a long flight to America, and he wanted to be rested when he arrived.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azazel is given a different name here, since i thought his actual name was a little weird for a human

Charles moaned and lifted his head. It was only 5:00 and he had been planning on getting at least another hour of sleep, but the aroma of bacon and coffee from downstairs quickly changed his mind.

He quickly got ready, ran a comb through his hair, and hurried downstairs to find his sister, Raven, standing at the stove. 

“Morning,” she said when he entered the kitchen.

“Morning,” Charles responded. 

He sat down at his chair and put a piece of toast on his plate, followed by several strips of bacon. Raven finished another round of bacon, then set the pan and coffeepot on the table.

“Ready for today?” Charles asked.

Raven shrugged. “Maybe. I’m really tired all of a sudden. Perhaps I won’t go into work today.”

Charles looked at her. “Is this about Hank?”

“What? No!” Raven looked startled, or at least pretended too. “Hank has nothing to do with it.”

Charles raised his eyebrows. He knew Raven and he knew when she was lying.

“He likes you, you know.”

Raven looked down at the tabletop and traced a gash in the wood. “I know, I know, and I wish he wouldn’t.”

“Because of Azal?”

Raven didn’t nod, but Charles could see the truth in the set of her shoulders. 

“Is there cream?” he asked, deciding to change the subject.

“Of course.” Raven’s face brightened and she looked relieved. “I’ll get it. I was getting up anyway.”

When she came back, she was carrying a jar of pickles. 

“What are those for?” Charles asked.

A hint of color came to Raven’s cheeks. “For my toast.”

Charles frowned. “You hate pickles.”

“I know,” Raven quickly said. “I just really wanted to try it.”

Charles decided that also wasn’t a route worth pursuing and they finished breakfast in silence. 

The Agency was bustling when they finally arrived and Charles and Raven splint up at the door. Charles headed towards Hank’s lab, while Raven went to check on the technicians under her.

“Morning, Charles,” Hank said as soon as Charles opened the door. 

“Morning,” Charles responded. “We have a mission and you’re coming with us, aren’t you?”

Hank spun his chair around, a slight crease in his forehead almost hidden by his glasses frames. 

“You’re really good at that, you know?”

Charles smiled. “It’s my job, Hank.”

“Yeah.” Hank tried to subtly look behind Charles. “Is Raven here?”

“Um, no,” Charles said, debating how much to tell Hank. He finally decided that it was Raven’s and his thing to work out and none of his business. 

“Oh.” Hank looked like a sad puppy, with his brown eyes lowering and his shoulders slumping. 

In an effort to cheer him up, Charles asked, “Do you know what the mission is?”

Hank nodded. “Yesterday, the Agency was alerted to a possible attack on the President. It is thought the attack will be carried out during the election week.”

“Cause the most chaos and destabilize the country,” Charles muttered.

Hank nodded.

“Why us? Why not the CIA or the Secret Service?”

“Because the shooter is Erik Lehnsherr,” a haughty voice said from behind Charles.

He turned and Azal was standing there, smirk on his narrow face. Charles heard Hank rise to his feet, but Charles didn’t turn to reassure him. He was more focused on keeping his own face from betraying the feelings that name brought with it.

“And I’m going to bring him in,” Azal continued.

“All of us will,” Hank said. “We’re a team.”

“Right. Team.” Azal smiled, revealing his filed teeth. “Forgot that.”

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Charles said, trying to keep some of the peace. 

Azal’s smile grew. “What? Did Raven not tell you?”

Hank made a growling noise deep in his throat and Charles turned and glared at him. Now was not the time to be fighting. 

“Did you come here to tell us something?” Charles asked.

“Right.” Azal smacked his forehead like he had forgotten and Charles had an overwhelming urge to punch him. “Director wants you, briefing meeting and all that. We leave in three hours, so I suggest you hurry.”

Charles gritted his teeth, but followed Azal out the door, Hank behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

The instant the plane’s wheels touched the tarmac, Erik was awake. He joined the other bleary-eyes travelers as they exited the plane and into a hot morning. 

He handed his credentials to the TSA agents, made small talk, his accent perfectly Midwestern. Then left the airport, hailed a cab, and made his way to his house. 

The house was bare, with no pictures or personal things. Out of all his houses, this one was his favorite. Small, no yard, and plenty of windows. Also, it helped that the neighbors were all young couples with jobs. No one staying at home to spy on him. 

He placed his rifle case on the table and unfolded the newspaper he had bought at the airport. Charles had always teased him about reading the newspaper when the news was more available online. 

Erik frowned and shook his head. Now was not the time. Charles wasn’t there. He was gone and Erik needed to focus on the mission, with no distractions. 

The re-election had made the front page. Erik skimmed the article, looking for any information about when the President would be coming. There were lots in the article about how much he had done for the country and how beloved he was and his spotless past. 

Erik threw down the paper in disgust. He wasn’t finding what he wanted anyway. 

He spent the day resting and taking short naps. When the sun went down, he loaded his bag into the passenger seat of his car and left. As he drove off into the sunset, he failed to notice the curtain in the house across the street fall back into place.


	4. Chapter 4

“Please, sir,” Charles said, trying to hide the frustration boiling inside him. “this is important.”

“As is the people’s moral,” President Kelly shot back, his grey eyes hardening. “This election is important. I need to be there for the people.”

“But if you do,” Raven interjected. “you could die. And what would that do for this country?”

Kelly frowned. “I’m sorry, but I’m going ahead with this campaign.”

Azal swore under his breath as the President left the room, and Charles wanted to join him. 

Erik was out there, going to kill Kelly, and he didn’t seem to care! Erik was dangerous and ruthless, but only when his morals were concerned.

His morals.

Charles turned to face Raven and Azal, who apparently were having a moment.

Charles coughed lightly to get their attention.

“Yes?” Raven asked.

“Why is Erik trying to kill the President?” Charles asked.

“Because he’s a hitman and a terrorist,” Azal flippantly answered. 

Charles shook his head. “No. Erik only kills those he believes deserved it.”

“So he’s a fanatic.” Azal shrugged. “Listen, Charles, you might’ve known this guy, but that was years ago. Who knows what he’s like now? Maybe he kills for fun now.”

Charles frowned. He had known Erik, but Azal was right. It had been a long time ago. Maybe he had changed. But something deep in Charles’ heart told him Erik hadn’t, that there was a reason he was doing this. If only he could figure out what the reason was.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter

The sun was just touching the horizon as Erik pulled into the downtown sector of Washington D.C. The destination was a result of several long days of travel, with very little rest. But he was finally there, and he was ready.

He parked the car outside a cheap hotel and breathed deeply, fingers twisting the Star of David around his fingers. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow the whole nation would change in the squeeze of a trigger. 

Charles’ face flashed in his mind. He looked angry, but there was hurt in his eyes. Erik recognize the memory. It was the day he left the Agency. Charles had begged him to stay, but he couldn’t continue to work for a government that didn’t care about minorities and allied themselves with corrupt politycy. They’d had their largest fight then. The last words Charles had ever said to him were, “I hate you, you arrogant, egotistical monster!”

Monster. 

Erik closed his eyes against the onslaught of memories that word brought. He could not afford to be compromised, not now, not on the brink of changing history. 

He left the car and rented a small room in the corner of the hotel, one with windows facing the road. He set up the rifle and scope, but left them on the floor. There would be plenty of time to set them up in the morning. 

He lay on the bed, still twisting the Star around. The paint on the ceiling was white, like fresh snow, and slowly grew dimmer as he slipped into sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

“There’s too many variables,” Hank complained, eyes flicking rapidly between three screens covered with security feeds. 

“You’ve got this,” Raven said, squeezing his shoulder.

Charles saw Hank’s face light up and felt his heart break for his friend. He watched Raven walk off and start talking with Azal, her smile bright. He wished he could tell her and relieve all the awkward tension, but he had resolved not to interfere. Besides, now was not a good time to mess with the team. They needed everyone in top form if they were going to stop Erik.

He crossed his arms, allowing his mind to work through where Erik could be. He knew Erik better than anyone else and was the best tuned to his psychological patterns. 

But there was nothing. He couldn’t focus his mind. No pattern was emerging, just their last argument playing on a loop in his head, everything he wished he could take back blaring in his mind.

“Charles,” Hank said, excitement in his voice. “I think I found where Erik could go.”

Charles hurried over, thankful for the distraction. 

Hank pointed to one of the screens. “This is the Seventh Bank. It was built in the 1800s and is now a museum, but look at the roof.”

Charles looked closer. Hank was right. It would be easy for a sniper to hide among all the scrolling and gargoyles.

“The President’s route takes him past this bank, doesn’t it?” Charles said.

“No.” Hank shook his head. “But one could conceivably have a clear shot to the stage where the Kelly will make his speech.”

Charles looked again at the museum. The shot would be hard, but not impossible. Erik could make it.

He wasn’t aware he had said the last part aloud until Hank said, “We’ll stop him.”

Charles was almost shocked by the anger in his voice, then remembered Erik had betrayed all of them, not just him. 

“I agree with Hank,” Raven said, coming up behind them. “We know where Erik will be and his target. We will stop him.”

Charles smiled and squeezed her hand, wishing he could feel the same confidence they did, but he was still confused on why Erik would take this contract. There must be a reason for it, Charles decided.

Charles sat in a corner of the room and opened his laptop. His fingers flew across the keys as he searched, knowing time was of the essence. 

And there was nothing. Whatever Kelly had done to convince Erik of need for his death was seriously hidden and would need more time to unbury than Charles had time for.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Might as well wait and see if Erik would tip his hand.


	7. Chapter 7

The morning of the President’s speech dawned grey, but dry. It was perfect shooting weather.

Erik propped himself up in a corner of the room, rifle tucked against him. He looked out the window, checking to make sure his line of sight was still clear. 

The spot he had chosen was at the very end of the President’s route. By the time the procession reached this street, everyone would be tired and, despite their best efforts, the guards would be relaxed. Strike hard while they’re distracted. 

He only moved once, to get food and relieve himself. As the time drew closer, he propped up the rifle, making sure the barrel was well hid, and started to steady his breathing. 

This was it. The moment when he would change history. 

The car containing the President rounded the corner. Erik took a deep breath, lined up his sights, and fired. 

He could barely see the puncture mark as the bullet entered the glass. As soon as the bullet hit, the procession sped away. Erik quickly got to work packing away his equipment. He placed the rifle in its case, grabbed his bag, and left. If all went well, he would be well on his way to Poland by the time the shooter’s nest was discovered.


	8. Chapter 8

Charles had been shot before, but he always forgot how badly it hurt. And this time he even had a Kevlar vest. 

“I think I broke a rib,” he gasped, forcing a laugh.

“Most definitely,” Raven said over her shoulder, most of her attention focused on driving. “Hank, did you get an angle on the shooter?”

“Um, kind of.”

“What do you mean ‘kind of’?” 

“Well, Erik didn’t shoot from where we expected him too, so those safety precautions were a waste.” Hank sounded disappointed. “Thankfully though, because of Charles, we now know where he actually was.”

“Yes,” Charles wheezed. “So glad I could be of service. Remind me again why Azal couldn’t have done this part?”

“You look more like Kelly than he does,” Raven said. “And he’s gonna stop Erik.” 

Hank scoffed, but didn’t say anything. 

“Right.” Charles lay back against the seat, closing his eyes. It may have just been a few bruised ribs, but they still hurt like crazy. “I could’ve stopped Erik.”

Raven made a non-committing noise in the back of her throat as Charles allowed himself to drift into unconsciousness.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter, and things happen

The airport was busy, even late at night. Erik slipped through the crowd, his worn fedora pulled low over his eyes. 

He glanced at every newspaper stand he passed, searching for the headlines that would confirm his kill. But there was nothing. Finally, as he waited in line, he pulled out a burner phone and searched the news online. 

Attempt On President’s Life Failed! the headlines blared. 

Erik clenched the phone in anger. He had failed. He never failed. Why had he failed? He gritted his teeth and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He would deal with that later. For now, he needed to leave the country.

Slight movement out of the corner of his eye was all the warning he had before a gunshot ran through the crowded terminal. He spun around, pistol in hand, and fired off a shot. The person who had been coming towards him ducked the bullet and vanished, using the panicking crowd to mask his movements. 

Erik slipped the gun back into its holster, gliding into the crowd, every sense on high alert. Whoever was out there knew what he looked like, who he was. 

He cursed softly, almost missing the sound of a gun firing. He ducked and rolled, coming up in a crouch. The crowd parted as a man walked through, pointing a gun at Erik.

“So, you’re the one Charles hates,” the man smirked, revealing pointed teeth.

Erik forced his face to stay neutral and forced away the pain Charles’ name brought. 

“You must be my replacement,” he said icily, getting to his feet. 

“In more ways than one,” the man sneered. 

Erik clenched his teeth and slowly reached for his gun.

“Uh-uh,” the man said, gesturing with his gun. “I wouldn’t do that.”

The man raised the gun and looked Erik in the eye as he slowly started to pull back the trigger. Panic flashed through Erik’s body and he calculated how quickly he could grab his gun and fire. It wouldn’t be fast enough, but he had to do something. He couldn’t just stay here and let himself die like this.

“Azal!” a familiar voice cried out. 

Both looked to see Charles running towards them, one arm around his waist. Erik frowned as he saw the top of a Kevlar vest peek out from under Charles’ shirt. He allowed a small smile to show. So that’s how they had done it. 

“What?” the man, Azal, demanded, gun still trained on Erik. 

“Don’t . . . shoot . . . him,” Charles panted.

“Why not?” Azal demanded.

Erik couldn’t see Charles’ face, but he could imagine the glare he gave Azal. “The Agency . . . wants him alive.”

“And you do everything the Agency tells you to do?” Erik asked.

Charles whirled around, anger blazing in his brown eyes. “You . . . don’t . . . get a say.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “You were the President.”

“Not permanently.”

“Broken ribs?”

Charles’ glare grew stronger, if that was even possible. “No thanks to you.”

“The Agency sent you to take me in.”

He nodded. “And that’s what we’re doing.”

Erik looked at Azal, who was sneering. “You got him to replace me? I could’ve caught someone without blowing cover, shooting in a crowded place without clean sight to my target, or disobeying Agency’s orders.”

Azal rolled his hand. “Yes, yes, we’re all aware you were the best.”

Erik noticed the use of the past tense and clenched his fists. Charles stepped in-between them, but paused and cocked his head, like he was listening to someone.

“Understood,” he finally said. Then he turned to Erik. “We need to take you in.”

He nodded. Charles reached for his wrist, but Erik grabbed him first, pulling him around and in front of him, wrapping his other arm around Charles’ neck.


	10. Chapter 10

Charles froze, fear paralyzing him. 

“Erik, what—?” Charles started, but Erik cut him off.

“Listen,” he hissed. “You both are going to do exactly what I say, or Charles is going to end up with more than a few bruised ribs.”

Charles felt Erik shift, pulling something out of his jacket, then the cold barrel of a gun pressing against his skull. 

“Drop it.” Erik demanded, his voice loud in Charles’ ear.

Azal glared and swore, but did as Erik said, his gun clattering loudly on the tile floor. 

“Call off your team,” he told Azal. “Tell the Agency I got away and don’t follow me.”

“What about Charles?” he demanded.

That surprised Charles. He thought Azal didn’t like him. No, there was still disgust in Azal’s eyes. He probably just didn’t want to face Raven. Charles didn’t envy him. An angry Raven was something to be avoided at all costs. 

“Charles is coming with me. Call him collateral, if you like.”

“You’ve never taken a hostage before,” Azal spat, voicing the questions Charles had. “Why now?”

“I’ve also never failed before.” Erik’s voice was low and dangerous. “Looks like today is just full of surprises.”

Azal glanced at Charles and he nodded, letting Azal know it was alright. He wasn’t scared of Erik. Slowly, Azal started to walk away and Charles watched him leave, doubt growing in his stomach with every step, and fear that he hadn’t made the right decision. 

“Take out your comms,” Erik hissed in his ear.

Slowly, Charles did so. As soon as the comm link dropped to the floor, Erik crushed it.

Erik released his neck and transferred his grip to Charles’ arm. Then he started walking with quick, purposeful steps, forcing Charles to walk fast to keep up with him.

“Where are we going?” Charles demanded, trying to read Erik’s face. 

“Poland.”

“Poland?”

Erik yanked on his arm, forcing Charles to look at him. “If you repeat me again, I will shoot you.”

Charles nodded his understanding, desperately searching Erik’s eyes for the friend he once knew. But he couldn’t find him. 

The fear in his stomach grew and he wondered who exactly Erik had become.


	11. Chapter 11

Erik had to find a new airport and buy tickets that cost a king’s ransom, but it had been worth it. Now they were safely on a plane headed for Poland. 

Charles was silent in the seat next to him, an arm still wrapped around his middle. Erik almost felt guilty about all the manhandling, especially if Charles had broken or bruised ribs, but he had to do it, to let Charles know he was serious about shooting him. 

But now he was getting worried. Charles hadn’t put up any fight and wasn’t talking. However, he didn’t know how to ask him if he was doing okay. Erik had kidnapped him, for goodness’ sake!

As soon as they landed and left the airport, Erik’s gun was in hand, hidden under his jacket. He didn’t need it, though. Charles walked next to him, peering at his face every once in a while. 

Erik always made sure to glare at him when he did. 

He hailed a cab, but waved two on before choosing the third one. They climbed in and Erik gave the address of a deli down the street from his house. 

Charles remained quiet.

When they finally entered his house, Erik felt himself relax the smallest fraction. He tossed his keys on the counter, hung up his jacket and fedora, then realized he left his rifle at the airport. He swore for a moment, then remembered Charles was still standing in the foyer.

“You can sit down if you want,” he said, gesturing to the one couch. 

Erik heard Charles sit as he entered the small kitchen, grabbing a drink from the fridge. After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed one for Charles.

“Here,” he said, handing the drink to Charles and sitting down at the table.

Charles looked at the bottle, then back at Erik. “You have obviously never kidnapped someone before.”

Erik shrugged. “Guess I’m going to learn.”

Charles placed down the bottle and folded his hands, looking at Erik. 

“What happened to you?”

He knew that stance. It was the Charles-thinks-he’s-going-to-fix-all-my-problems-with-a-little-speech stance. Erik hated it when Charles did that.

“I made a living,” was all he said, determined not to give Charles any fuel.

“We missed you,” Charles said, his voice soft.

Do not look at him, Erik told himself. It’ll be like looking at a puppy. You’ll lose all your resolve. 

“Of course you did,” Erik scoffed.

“Why didn’t you come back?”

“You know why!” Erik shouted, his anger erupting. “You and all those liars you serve under know why!”

Charles looked hurt, but Erik was used to that. Charles, Raven, even Hank . . . His actions only hurt people, so why not make a living out of what he was best at?

“You weren’t lost,” Charles said softly. “You could’ve returned.”

“Why would I?” Erik demanded. “There was nothing at the Agency worth going back to.”


	12. Chapter 12

Charles lay on the musty couch, his jacket folded under his head. He would’ve laughed at his situation if the sting from Erik’s words wasn’t present.

Nothing worth going back to. 

He wasn’t worth going back for? Or Raven? Or even Hank? None of them was worth it? Erik had just decided to walk away from it all, leave all his friends, and not care who was hurt.

He knew that wasn’t what happened. It was the version Charles desperately wished had happened, because blaming Erik was easier than accepting the truth.

A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. Charles didn’t bother to wipe it away as memories of the horrible day flashed through his mind. 

A simple mission. Erik was covering while Raven and Charles entered the building. Hank was on comms. The deal went wrong. Their informant wasn’t who they thought and he threatened Erik’s family. He wasn’t supposed to know about Erik’s family. Those surprises had been their undoing. 

They had frozen. 

“Do not engage!” Charles remembered shouting. “Erik, do not engage!” 

There was a shot. The informant was dead, but the call had already gone through. 

The Agency found Erik’s family in the woods three days later. Their bodies weren’t even buried, his wife still clutching their daughter. 

Charles could still feel the anger that had radiated off Erik. After that, he became ruthless, brutal, unpredictable. But most of all, he stopped watching their backs. Both he and Raven almost died because Erik couldn’t be part of the team. 

When Charles confronted him, things grew worse. Words were shouted in anger that he would deeply regret, but he could never make right, because Erik left after their fight. No warning, nothing, just an empty bunk and Azal’s addition to the team.

Charles clenched his eyes shut and breathed deeply, forcing the memories away. In the other room, he could hear Erik snoring and he slowly sat up, careful not to make a sound. He stood and crept into the kitchen, where he remembered seeing a landline. He picked up the receiver and tried to call the Agency, but the phone wasn’t working. 

Bending down, he noticed all the cut wires. With a sigh, Charles put the phone back and went back to his couch. When he sat down, a cloud of dust was released and he stifled a sneeze. It was going to be a long night.


	13. Chapter 13

Erik was completely surprised to see Charles when he woke the next morning. He had half-expected Charles to run off during the night. 

He didn’t acknowledge Charles when he went to the kitchen, but he did hear him sit up and groan. 

“I demand the bed if you’re keeping me here for longer than another night,” Charles called.

“You could be sleeping on the floor,” Erik responded, thankful for the wall that hid the grin on his face. 

“At this point, the wall would feel like a down comforter.”

Charles walked into the kitchen, his hair sticking up in several different directions. He sunk onto a stool, rubbing his eyes.

“How long are you planning on keeping me here?” Charles demanded.

Erik glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Until Azal confirms that the Agency believes I escaped.”

“You did escape,” Charles muttered. Erik ignored him.

“Once that happens, I will drive you to the airport and you will never see me again.”

“But you’ll continue killing.”

Erik clenched the handle of his coffee mug and took several deep breaths to keep from hurling it at Charles’ face. 

“Only those I deem necessary,” he finally said.

“And how do you decide that?” 

Charles was doing that digging thing again, where he asked probing questions and got one to think. Erik had hated it when he was with the Agency, and he hated it now.

Reaching into a nearby drawer, he pulled out a roll of duct tape.

“What are you doing?” Charles demanded.

“Until you can learn to be quiet and leave me alone, I’m going to have to force the peace and quiet.”

Erik pulled Charles’ hand behind his back and secured them with several strips of tape, then came around front.

“Erik,” Charles said, his eyes wide. “Please—”

He firmly placed the strip of tape over Charles’ mouth, ignoring the twinge of his conscience. Then he grabbed Charles’ shoulder and forced him back onto the couch where he could keep an eye on him.

His phone rang and he answered it instantly.

“You’re free.” It was Azal and he sounded angry.

“Good.”

“Now hand over Charles.”

“He’s released now.” Erik glanced over at Charles, who was steadily glaring at him. He shrugged and Charles rolled his eyes. 

“He better be or—”

“Or what?” Erik was enjoying this. “Your precious Agency thinks I’m long gone. How are you going to explain it when you miraculously find me?”

“That’s all it will be,” Azal snapped. “A miracle. Now, I better see Charles standing in front of me tomorrow or the whole might of the US government will come after you.”

Erik hung up and walked over to Charles. “It appears you are going home.”


	14. Chapter 14

Charles couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face at those words. Or, at least he tried to smile. The duct tape over his face hindered the motion. 

Was it just him, or did Erik not look that happy over the news? Charles shook his head and decided it was just a trick of the light. But he had been trained to read people and was one of the best in his field. He knew what he was seeing. 

Erik reached down and yanked the tape off Charles’ face. He winced as the tape tore at his skin, but Erik didn’t seem to notice.

“Get in the car,” he demanded, slipping a gun into his belt.

Charles turned, showing the tape on his wrists. Erik sighed, but grabbed a knife and sliced through the tape. Charles glanced at the knife for only a second before following Erik out the door. 

The car was silent as a grave as Erik drove. Charles felt a sense of déjà vu as he sat quickly in the passenger seat. His ribs were screaming in protest of the lumpy couch and his stomach was complaining about the lack of food. Charles reminded himself he was an agent of the United States government and therefore could handle a day of captivity. 

He glanced over at Erik, feeling like he should say something. This was the most time they had spent together since Erik had left the Agency and he wanted to say something, anything, to see if he could bridge the gap that formed between them.

But before he could open his mouth, Erik jerked to a stop.

“Out,” he said.

Charles paused, one hand on the door handle. This was his last moment. He need to make it count.

“You’re still a good man, Erik,” he said softly.

“Whatever goodness you think you see in me,” Erik said, refusing to meet Charles’ gaze. “died when the Agency murdered my family.”

Charles felt his heart wrench. “Erik, please—”

“Leave, Charles.” His voice was like ice. 

Charles flinched and opened the door. As soon as he did so, the sound of hundreds of guns being cocked filled the air.


	15. Chapter 15

Erik swore loudly and pulled his gun free, but one glance told him there were too many agents. 

“What are you doing?” he heard Charles shout.

“Move forward,” he heard Azal demand.

Erik swore some more. 

This was ridiculous. 

He climbed from the car, ready to take down as many agents as possible before he was arrested. 

“Erik,” Charles hissed.

He barely turned his head. Charles was looking at him, a desperate look in his eyes.

“Shoot me.”

“What?” Erik forgot his training and looked Charles full in the face. “You want me to what?”

“Shoot me,” Charles hissed. “It’s the only way you’ll get out of here.”

Erik stared at him like he was crazy, which, after a moment of thinking about it, he probably was. Maybe the bruised ribs were limiting the oxygen to his brain. 

“Shoot me!”

The urgency in Charles’ voice broke him from his thoughts and he allowed his training to take over, dimly aware of agents closing in. 

He pulled back the trigger and Charles cried out, red blossoming on his shoulder.

Oh, stop whining, Erik thought. It’s a clean shot.

The agents’ attention swung towards Charles and Erik raised his gun on the few blocking his way, taking them out swiftly and cleanly, with perfect shots to the weaknesses in their body armor. Some days, it did pay to have worked for them. 

“He’s getting away!” he heard Azal call out.

Erik rolled his eyes and turned, barely slowing. He aimed and pulled the trigger in one smooth motion.

It was a prefect shot.

“This is for you, Raven,” Erik whispered as Azal’s body fell.


	16. Chapter 16

The funeral was small. Charles stood next to the casket, hands clasped in front of him as he listened to the Director talk about how good of an agent Azal was. Was. The director shouldn’t have been saying ‘was’. Azal shouldn’t have been dead. 

Raven stood across from him, with Hank next to her, her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. After a moment, she rested her head on Hank’s shoulder and he slowly put an arm around her.

When the funeral was over, Charles went to the Director.

“Did Azal have any family?” he asked.

The Director shook his head. “This team was the only family he had.”

His words fanned the spark of guilt in Charles’ stomach. He wished Erik had never taken the shot, he wished Azal was still alive, even if he drove Charles crazy. He wished he had been able to convince Erik to come back with him. He wished a lot of things were different.

They went back to Charles’ house for a small meal. Everyone stood around, talking quietly, but he wasn’t sure what good things there were to say about Azal, even if they were to honor the dead. Hank still had an arm around Raven, whose face was red from crying.

“Here,” someone said softly, handing a bouquet of Raven’s favorite flowers to her. Charles walked over and pulled a card from the bouquet.

It read, To Raven. My sincerest apologies in familiar, precise handwriting.

Hank started to crumple the card but Raven took it and slipped it back in, not saying anything.

The Agency soon found a replacement for Azal—a man named Logan—but the team was never the same again. They had lost too many members to feel whole. His stiff shoulder reminded him of that loss. 

Several months later, Raven told Charles and Hank she was pregnant, which Charles has already guessed, and for a while that put even more strain on the team. But Hank got over it and brought Raven a baby blanket he had knitted as a peace offering.

Charles felt happy, but there were still days when he regretted letting Erik go.


	17. Chapter 17

Erik sat on a park bench, watching Raven and Hank walked down a path, a baby stroller in front of them. He smiled to himself. Raven deserved some happiness after all she had been through, even if it was with Hank.

“You could be happy with us, you know,” a familiar voice said.

He turned. Charles sat down on the bench next to him, a board tucked under one arm.

“I told you to leave,” Erik said, but his voice wasn’t hard. 

“And you shouldn’t be in public like this,” Charles rejoined. 

Erik smirked. “Touché.” 

They settled into a comfortable silence for a moment, then Charles asked, “Chess?”

Erik smiled in surprise. “How did you—?”

“Just a hunch.”

Charles started setting up the pieces, resting the board on his knees. Erik watched for a moment before the guilt became too much.

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

“For?” Charles asked innocently, glancing up.

“For shooting you, for killing Azal, for . . . everything that’s happened.” Erik bowed his head, twisting the Star of David in his hands. 

“I’m sorry too,” Charles responded softly. “For everything I said.”

Silence fell over them again, but it felt different. There was still many wounds to be healed and words that had been spoken that couldn’t be taken back, but something had changed. For the better.

Erik reached out and moved the pawn, signaling the start of a new game.


End file.
